faints. “I don’t want to be a pain, but would it be possible to seat us at that table over there?” He motions to a table nestled in front of a banquette. After one glass of wine, I forget that my entire community is staring at us. We’re laughing about how he charmed those poor women into working on the play. We talk about the kids, like they’re a shared interest of ours. He wants to know about my brief career in publishing, and his responses make me realize I learned more than I thought. “Do you date?” he wants to know. “No.” “Never?” “Never.” “Why not?” “These are some pretty rural suburbs.
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